


Cactus High Noon

by Hikario



Category: Kill Bill (2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikario/pseuds/Hikario
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill takes great liberties in the proper introduction of his chosen proteges. A warrior must be introduced to another warrior with sweat and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cactus High Noon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cyphersushi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyphersushi/gifts).



The high noon sun beat down on the fine glassy sand deep in an unnamed corner of South-western desert. Four people and a beat up camo-green '86 Jeep with a deco of a naked Wagnerian Valkyrie plastered across the hood were loitering there, waiting for the sun to crest in intensity and heat. The timing of arrival had been less then impeccable; Budd had downed half a micky of cheap lemon gin on the drive, which woke up his lead foot, and cost an unfortunate armadillo it's life. So they were early.

When the sun hit it's climax, the first thing Bill did was leap high, higher then any man should be able, and land nimbly atop a towering cactus. A seven foot cliché with two arm-like branches covered in two-inch spikes thick and strong as nails. Bill was dressed head-to-toe in leather: a dark thick tan jacket strong as medieval armour, dirt brown chaps with fraying tassells down the seams and a pair of steel-toed steel-soled custom made alligator skin boots. A 10-gallon hat kept the sun and the worst of the heat out of his eyes while he perched in a knock-kneed squat on the tips of a hundred cactus thorns.

"Now as you know," he began his pontification from atop his perch, "despite the obvious perceptions, my little organization is not infinitely powerful, nor are my resources quite as unending as they may appear. In reality, they stretch just about this far." He extended his right hand, stretched it far out in front of him and rolled his fingers into a slow, grasping fist.

"You've each made a request of me recently. I have deemed it unwise to commit myself too widely and spread myself too thinly just now. Therefore, out here, still an arm and a half's length from your goal," he stretched his left arm to the side, his hand in an open knife-hand, palm up, "two of you will today remain."

The pop of a beer can opening interrupted the monologue. Budd had seated himself on the Valkyrie's voluptuous ass, leaned against the windshield with a six-pack in one hand. Bill let out an exasperated sigh, and returned his attention to the two women below him

"Your task" he began with a drawling smirk, "is to get me down."

"Without, I suppose, hurtin' old spiky here." Budd quipped.

"Of course. After all, he is older then us all. Elders are to be respected, when it suits you." Bill nodded down in approval. It was time to begin.

Beatrix Kiddo's eyes glazed with rabid admiration and an innocent lust as she stared attentively up at her master. She felt pride welling deep in her belly to think that Bill would all ready bring her out here to such a challenge, and that he would even consider her request: His time, his training. She settled into her most flexible, adaptable stance at a point equidistant from the cactus and from the Jeep, where Budd had apparently thrown in the towel before the fight even began. Not even bothering to change out of his ratty jeans and slept-in bar logo T-shirt that morning, the redneck had come without a hope in hell for success, and everyone present knew it. Not for lack of skill, mind; it was just intrinsically accepted that he didn't want to kill either woman, and would much more enjoy watching them savage each other then he would enjoy shooting either one of them. To her left, O-Ren Ishii had positioned herself, approximately ten meters from the centre-point cactus, stiff and straight as a board, composed even under the beating sun in a loose black turtleneck and form-fitting flexible trousers. Beatrix, herself in a cheery denim jacket and bell-bottoms, was acquainted with both opponents, to different degrees of intimacy.

Budd was the first man she met when Bill took her under his wing. She suspected that their meeting had been a test which, had she failed, she would have woken up dead the next morning. The rough hick had a crude, violent edge and the heart of an occasionally homicidal teddy bear that she had immediately found profoundly offensive and irresistibly endearing. Within the first ten minutes of their meeting, over drinks at a seedy karaoke dive, he had managed to offend her twice. She nearly stabbed him in the face with a fork. (Bill had just sat back and smirked as Budd deflected her assault with a coffee creamer, which exploded all over her face.) By the second hour they were trading stories, fights, kills, hits, that-one-time-in-Tijuana stories. By the third hour, they had sang every duet on the karaoke menu. He tried to kiss her, sloppily, around closing time and she twisted his balls nearly three-hundred sixty degrees around until he squealed for mercy on the floor. Bill nursed the same tumbler of Gentleman's Jack on the rocks all night, his smile as frank and honest as she had ever seen him. The next day he took her out on her first assignment.

O-Ren Ishii had spent the entire seven hour drive from the airport in serious meditative silence, broken only to politely respond to Bill's courteous queries. Beatrix had studied her history and had twice watched her kill (both times with quiet precision, cold blood, and painstaking skill). So far she had yet to see the legendary death demon surface from under the polite Japanese exterior, her face kept as placid as a Noh dancer's mask.

"As you will, ladies." At Bill's nod, both women lunged forward. Beatrix met O-Ren three feet from the cactus; each moved simultaneously to block the other's advance, causing an almost ungraceful shoulder-to-shoulder collision. O-Ren raised her arm with an open palm to slap down the anticipated attack; Beatrix blocked the block with a raised forearm and stomped hard on O-Ren's foot, eliciting a faint gasp. O-Ren pushed away, spinning on her heel to land in a coiled defensive posture with a little more distance between them. Her form was clean, strong, perfect. The slightest quirk of her lips and a bead of sweat forming at her brow were the only indications to Beatrix that she was pissed, frustrated that she had been first repelled.

"This here is better then paper view." Budd chuckled, well into his second can. Bill glared down at him, momentarily taking his eyes off the catfight.

"Are you not even going to try, Budd?"

"There is no way in hell I'm putting myself in the middle of that, brother." Budd replied between slurps. "Besides, I ain't getting what I want any which way this ends. May as well enjoy the show."

In the shadow of the cactus, O-Ren deflected with the twist of one arm three lightning-fast jabs at her throat, eyes, and solar plexus. Her rebuttal was a low sweep into Beatrix's instep. Taking the momentum of the kick, Beatrix dropped to the ground and rolled forward across one shoulder straight into O-Ren's leg, toppling her balance and bringing both of them down into a low ground grappling match.

A puff sand with a faint sweaty perfume to it wafted into the air as Beatrix struggled to scramble on top of her opponent. O-Ren rolled with it, slamming B hard against the cactus side. She let out a shout as the wall of sharp spines behind her stabbed through her cloths into her skin, threatening to puncture into her rib cage if she didn't stop the direction of her roll.

Firmly planting the sole of her outside foot against the ground, Beatrix thrust her head forward, arms locked together with O-Ren's as they grasped at each other's shoulders, and slammed her forehead into the bridge of O-Ren's nose. The impact was blunted by Beatrix's reluctance to brace herself against the cactus any further, briefly stunning O-Ren rather then breaking her nose as intended. Surprised and off-put by her opponent's gutter-fight tactics, the likes of which she hadn't needed for years, a pleased purring growl formed in the back of O-Ren's throat as she pulled off and away, smoothly scrambling to her feet.

With a jerk, Beatrix pulled herself off of the wall of spikes behind her.

"Ow." she scowled, rolling her shoulders back as she stood, and then grinned. O-Ren left her closer to the goal, closer to Bill. With only a little hesitation, she turned to begin the painful assent up the cactus. Only two footholds up a sudden jarring weight attached itself to her back, one arm wrapping around her neck and a leg around her waste. O-Ren's breath was hot at her ear, a silent whisper of satisfaction and aggression. Beatrix decided to let go of her hold on the cactus before her opponent managed to scramble past her or strangle her, and kicked off the cactus to launch them both in the air, writhing and struggling to land on each other.

They broke apart and rolled on impact, a four foot drop magnified by their struggle. This time O-Ren was slightly closer. Beatrix grinned ferally and took a few daring steps forward.

"Fuck this" O-Ren spat, glaring straight into B's eyes as she drew a short tanto blade that had been inconspicuously strapped to her ankle. The smile slid off her face and Beatrix arced her back to avoid the fish-gutting slash aimed at her midsection. The blade slide silently through the air in front of her and carried on deep into the trunk of the old cactus. O-Ren pulled and wrenched her knife with a guttural grunt, a spray of watery juice like blood splatter on her face as she severed all but a flap of the cactus skin. Keeping her momentum she spun, torquing her torso and snapping a foot out with the speed of a snake to land a weighty roundhouse kick just above the dripping cactus wound. A single spike ran clean through her boot, a drip of blood on the tip; the towering foliage shook and bent and began to tip into a slow, fateful fall.

Bill landed in a crouch next to Budd on the Jeep hood, matching wry grins, and grabbed the beer can from Budd's hand to take a heavy gulp before letting out a parched bark of a laugh.

"We have a winner. You will have my support, Ren-chan."

"The cunt cheated." Beatrix spat, more dismayed at the sudden cessation of the fight then her loss.

"She damn well better cheat if she is going to control the Yakuza some day." Bill smiled, warm and fatherly to O-Ren; that was all he needed to say. The entire exercise had been something of a mock-up, and all of them knew it. Bill always knew exactly what he was and was not going to do ahead of time, and wasn't prone to betting his time on fights he couldn't already predict. The underlying intention, the true purpose had been the running of a mockup scenario, one of many trials. The creation of a group as Bill was then envisioning, something so new and destined to be so great would require only the most perfect chemistry amongst only his ideal members.

"Budd. Hotwire this damn truck again. I have got to get these fucking boots off of me." The men meandered into to the Jeep, the two women left to catch their breath by the dead cactus. A satisfied, controlled smile slipped past O-Ren's mask, an honest acknowledgement. It was a dangerous balance of open respect, deadly competitiveness and hesitant friendship. Beatrix smiled back, a little sardonic.

"You know, Sailor Moon, maybe we should have a rematch. A fair fight, no blades. Or, you know. Both of us armed this time No tricks" Beatrix hardened her gaze, a flush of red painting her cheeks, embarrassed over the loss seeping through. She had really, really wanted Bill to see her win. O-Ren laughed then, an open chirp like an anime schoolgirl.

"Silly blond. Tricks are for kids." O-Ren flicked her short blade out, remaining drops of cactus juice splashing off before she knelt down to sheath the blade. Beatrix raised one eyebrow.

"I'm not a rabbit." Sighing, she resigned herself to liking this woman. "Lunch at that Ihop by the highway?"

"They aren't licensed. Budd will never have it." O-Ren stood back up, her smile imperceptibly changed. "We will have to stop at the liquor store first." Then, a nod, the polite mask slipping back into place.

Masks are never the same when you know the face underneath.

At the Ihop, while Budd paid and flirted with the waitress, and O-Ren demurely slipped off to the ladies' room, Bill slid an arm around Beatrix and she, ever unguarded to him, relaxed into his firm grip.

"Guess this means you won't have time to train me." It was nearly a pout, and from a lesser woman with less natural cheek such a thing would have earned a slap from Bill. Instead, he smiled down at his girl fondly.

"Soon, I will sing you a song of the man who will make you into what I need. You are, of course, already everything I could want." he punctuated, leaning in to give her a patronizing kiss on the forehead that sent shivers down to the base of her spine.

"When?"

"Soon, Kiddo. Soon. You're almost ready."

"And Budd?" she couldn't help asking.

"I fly to Tokyo with O-Ren in two days." Bill replied dismissively. That request was one best kept between brothers.

Beatrix nodded. No time for rest, love, or family. Bill had business to do. And with Bill's business, one had to choose one's priorities carefully, without a doubt as to how the dice would land.

She felt, with the warm certainty of a young girl in love, that she had passed another test.


End file.
